


Let me Take you Home

by SummerLeighWind (orphan_account)



Category: Guardians of Childhood - William Joyce, Rise of the Guardians (2012)
Genre: Angst, But Kozmotis Pitchiner returns!, F/M, Father-Daughter Relationship, Future Fic, Gen, Not Really Character Death, Pitch Black dies, SO
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-11
Updated: 2013-05-11
Packaged: 2017-12-11 13:41:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,165
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/799370
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/SummerLeighWind
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"He's not Pitch Black any longer," She says, eyes wistfully following the happy pair as they walk hand in hand back to the little home where a woman of short-stature with more freckles than a strawberry waits smiling. "He's..." she whispers, "He's who's he meant to be now."</p>
<p>The blue boy tilts his head, "And who's that?" He inquires.</p>
<p>Lips quirking in a sad smile, she replies, "A good man," pausing, she finishes, "A great father."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Let me Take you Home

He is a monster. He knows no other words that could possibly sum up all his despicable acts, (that's a lie, murderer, plunderer, _villain_ ) He's no longer the being Pitch Black-The Boogey man-but, something in between. His skin is a pale color more fit for a body in a casket, his hair an ashen gray lightening more everyday (maybe someday he'll be the blond he remembers as Kozmotis) and his eyes...they flicker, between the hateful gold of the Kingdom he slayed and the blue that remind him of his daughter's so much it makes him want to weep every time he catches glimpse of them.

Weary and restless, he wanders this unfamiliar-yet recognizable-world in his tattered black cloak. He walks right through the people who live on this planet and cringing at the feeling every time; what _is_ he? Not a man, not a Nightmare, not _anything_. He walks for months on end, years in fact, and at some point, the tears run dry and the anguish numbs him to everything else. Soon, the day comes that his abused body can no longer function and he drops; drops right in the middle of a forest outside a small town by the name of Burgess (it feels like he should know this place). Struggling to continue his self-imposed torture, Kozmotis, but not Kozmotis, feels his eyelids shutter and the darkness of his mind drag him away into the turbulent seas of his mind.

* * *

Whistling a carefree tune, Jack bounds through his woods spreading the beginning of winter. Casting his crook to and fro, he spreads the intricate white designs called snowflakes; soon, a fine layer of frost will cover all. Grinning at the thought, Jack misses the unfamiliar blockage of his path and topples to the forest's floor.

"Oomph!" He murmurs, pushing himself up and rubbing at his smarting chin. "What...?" He stops, staring at the familiar-if not worn-face of Pitch Black; but, it's _not_ Pitch Black. Curiously inspecting further, he sees the gray skin he always connected the Boogeyman with is no longer such and the black hair so much like his inky nightmares, is a smoky gray-nearly flickering golden in the light-peeling back an eyelid, he watches the eye flicker with gold before settling on a foreign blue color.

"Pitch?" He inquires softly, the man doesn't respond.

A hand coming to rest on the man's shoulder, he gives him a long shake. "Pitch!" He hisses. The spirit's breath stutters, but not much else. Staring down at the prone body, Jack takes in the gauntness of his face and the tatters of his robe; biting his lip, Jack decides the man won't be moving anytime soon.

Lifting his hand to the wind, he lets it pick him up and carry him away; "C'mon wind, get me to North's and quick!" The teenagers urges.

When the boy's been gone a long while, Pitch-no, he's not him either-opens one eye and with great exertion pulls his body up and away. He may not know the child any longer, but instinct (or is it the remnants of the Nightmare King?) tells him he needs to leave, find somewhere else to hide. Dragging his worn body along, he let's out a painful cry; is this his punishment? To never rest? To never stop his living-walk?

When Jack Frost returns with the rest of the Guardians, he points exuberantly to the place he found Pitch. "He was here! I swear!"

North settles a heavy hand on his shoulder. "I don't doubt you Jack." He murmurs.

Looking up into the old man's eyes, Jack angrily mutters, "You just think I'm trying to get attention."

"Jack-" Toothiana starts, reaching out to touch the boy's cheek.

"No!" Jack shouts jerking away from the soft, understanding, eyes. "You think, you _think_ I'm lying! Mistaken! I'm not! He _was HERE_!" He screams at them. He doesn't want this, they treat him like-like he's a _child_ ; but, he's _not_! He's three hundred years past innocence and appearances means little at this point. Breathing hard, Jack promises through gritted teeth, "I'll prove it! Just watch!"

Glaring down at their solemn faces, Jack takes off.

* * *

It's a great deal of time later and the sun's high in the sky here; dropping down against a tree in what appears to be some sort of garden for children, he watches them. Little girls and boys run around squealing and screaming, older children play with devices in their fingers; occasionally looking up to seek out a younger child and call out to them. Mothers and some fathers mill around chatting politely while bouncing gurgling and whimpering infants, all in all, his heart aches. He remembers his daughter (can he still call Seraphina his?), he remembers the brilliant blue eyes his wife once told him were a mirror of his own, the golden hair that lit up like gold thread in the sun and the little upturn nose that was all her mother's.

"Papa..." he murmurs fondly, "She called me papa..." It was a title he drowned in, it warmed him and terrified him; he loved her so much...but to know she depended on him, it hurt. It hurt because he always believed he would fail; (" _You can't fail Kozmotis! You're the greatest General the Lunaff Empire has_ ever _had_!") snorting, Pitch turns his head.

"So this is where you got to, huh?" Eyes opening in shock, he sees the pale teenager from before hanging in front of him by his feet. "Ya know, it's a little early for winter here, but..." he shrugs, and with a wave of his crook, a clouds shuffle in and snow drifts easily from the sky. Parents and children alike fuss and hurry to leave.

Unhappily, the older male says, "You didn't have to ruin there day."

Jack glances to the quickly deserting park. "They'll be okay." The man's lips thin; though, he holds back any comment. Sighing, Jack offers a hand and demands, "You need to come with me."

Standing up shakily, the once-Nightmare King brushes his ragged robes and shakes his head. "No." He refuses.

"Why?" Jack scowls.

"I know well enough to trust my instinct and stay away from the likes of you." He answers.

Jack frowns. "You wanted me to partner up with me not that long ago...don't tell me your still upset about that." He questions.

An ill-fitting smile on his face, the man that isn't parts to Jack, "I'm not who you remember...nor am I who I remember."

Head cocking in puzzlement, Jack asks, "What's that supposed to mean?"

Legs shaking, Pitch strides away from the winter spirit and calls over his shoulder. "When you figure it out, I'll go with you."

Jack chases after him, yet, somehow, Pitch manages to simply fade away into nothing; slipping right through his fingers for a second time.

* * *

On his knees and hands, he coughs and pukes; blackness pours from him; purging his body of the last of the fearlings. "Ugh.." he mumbles, swiping his arm across his mouth. Eyes shifting and squinting, he spies a small cave he thinks he can possibly squeeze into. Crawling to it, he drags himself over the pointed rocks of the entrance and ignores the way it scrapes his body and curls inside just a few feet from the opening. Eyes drifting closed for what he hopes to be the last time, he dreams of butterflies and his little girl's spritely laughter.

"Papa," a voice whispers, "Papa, you need to wake up."

Slitting his bleary eyes open, the man murmurs hopefully. "Seraphina?"

Fingers tinged an inhuman green cradle his cheek. "Oh papa..." she sighs, sounding so very _sad_.

Scrambling to cling to what little he can call his, he looks up and in the shifting light sees his daughter isn't who he remembers. "You're not Sera," he chokes in a whisper.

The woman's face flickers with hurt. "I may not be as you remember, but, it's been a very long time since you left."

Curling in on himself, the man murmurs, "Nothing's the same, nothing's what I remember."

The woman's fingers run soothingly through his hair. "Oh papa, you've been gone such a long time."

Listless, he moves and looks into those dark eyes, "No, I've not been gone." Desolate, he utters, "I know who I was, I know what I did-even if I can't recall a single moment."

The young lady's face pinches and she wraps her vine-like arms around him bringing him close. "I wish you didn't," she whimpers, "You don't deserve it; you are such a _good_ man-"

Lashing out, the once-upon-a-time General jerks away a fierce snarl on his sharp face. "No! Not good! I was a failure! The greatest failure of the Golden Age! A man who couldn't even do something as simple as keep the fear away!" He hollers at her.

His not-Seraphina stares at him in an oh-so-understanding way, he wants to hate her for it (but, he can't, not his one and only beloved daughter, _never)._ "Papa, you stood up to them for _thirteen_ months; that's so much longer than any other possibly could."

Looking down the woman, he whispers, "Do you know _why_ I failed?"

Her face takes on a quizzical look and she shakes her head.

The need to hurt someone surging through him, the man hisses, "It was _you_! You were my downfall!"

Tears build in those unfamiliar pools of black, a wobbly smile slipping onto her marble countenance she warbles, "It's o-okay now, though," with a shuddering breath she says to him, "It's all over, you can start new here pa-Kozmotis, this world isn't ridden with fear; you could begin again..."

Kozmotis Pitchiner blinks, "Truly? I could...I could just begin again?"

Her hand comes to clutch his, but she pulls back suddenly; nodding, she smiles weakly. "Yes, pick a new profession, find yourself a wife if you please, have yourself a child..." she fades off, gasping between halting sobs.

Gazing at her sadly, Kozmotis leans in and plants a gentle kiss to this creature's, who wears his daughter's likeness, cheek. "Thank you, I shan't forget you Sera."

A sob unhidden bursts from her. " _Thank you._ " She breathes.

Nodding, Kozmotis crawls out from the darkness of the cave and into the sun's welcoming light.

* * *

"Papa! Catch me!" Strong arms keep a tiny girl from tumbling to ground.

Laughing, a man with hair like gold and eyes like life-giving water grins. "Always, Astrid." Spinning them around, father and daughter squeal with laughter unrestrained.

Not far away, invisible to the pair, a boy of blues watches them. He makes to approach, but out of the air, a tall woman of imposing looks stops him. "Don't, he's happy." She tells him.

Cocking his head, the teenager frowns. "But-" He begins, but the woman's quick to cut him off.

"He's not Pitch Black any longer," She says, eyes wistfully following the happy pair as they walk hand in hand back to the little home where a woman of short-stature with more freckles than a strawberry waits smiling. "He's..." she whispers, "He's who's he meant to be now."

The blue boy tilts his head, "And who's that?" He inquires.

Lips quirking in a sad smile, she replies, "A good man," pausing, she finishes, "A great father."

Staring at the small, blissful family, Jack Frost considers them. "He's who he was before."

"Yes," the woman agrees.

Sighing, the teenager gets to leave. "He told me once, if I figured out what he meant he'd come with me; that's not gonna happen, is it?"

Burning coal black eyes on him, the woman answers, "Not if I can help it."

Wind toying with his hair and sweater, Jack nods. "Okay."

"Goodbye Jack Frost." The woman murmurs.

Jack hums lowly, "Ya know, I don't know your name."

She chuckles. "Mother Nature, my dear sprite."

Bobbing his head in acceptance, Jack lifts away with the wind. "Goodbye Mother Nature!" he shouts.

At the backdoor of a homely house, Kozmotis lifts his head to see a figure of blue flying away with the wind and a woman of earthly tones melding back from whence she came.

"Papa? What is it papa?" Astrid Sera Pitchiner questions, crystal blue eyes full of endless curiosity.

A slow grin working it's way on his lips, Kozmotis says, "I think I just caught glimpse of Mother Nature and Jack Frost."

Eager, the girl peers around her father's lean body. "Really?" She asks.

Laughing, the man whisks his girl into his arms. "Yes, but they're gone now."

"Aw," his daughter pouts.

"I know a number of stories about them and others," he imparts to her, "Would you like to hear them?" He inquires.

"Yeah!" She crows.

He laughs again and taking his wife's hand he smiles down at her warm eyes and leads them into their home with the beginning of a story. "Once, a great long time ago, in a place far away a Golden Age reigned..."


End file.
